


Viridian Green

by Schlafwandeln



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Angst, Artists, But more fluff than angst, Disability, Doctor!Hyunwoo, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Modeling, Oral Sex, Panic Attacks, Physical Disability, artist!changkyun, basically just me fulfilling my hyungkyun thirst, model!hyungwon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-12 16:23:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21479332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schlafwandeln/pseuds/Schlafwandeln
Summary: In which an artist losing his hands meets a beautiful model— together they figure out the complicated puzzle that is life.Alternatively: Changkyun’s hands are slowly becoming paralyzed, but he wants to draw Hyungwon so badly.Rated E for semi-graphic smut and use of expletives.
Relationships: Chae Hyungwon/Im Changkyun | I.M
Comments: 29
Kudos: 152





	Viridian Green

**Author's Note:**

> For Joc.
> 
> Note that Monsta X belongs to Starship Entertainment (wow it hurts to say that) and this work is entirely fanmade and fiction.
> 
> I do not gain any profit from this work.
> 
> Also, work is unbeta-ed, so all mistakes are mine.

**061116 - Sunday.**

This studio he’d been to a hundred times, maybe more if he counted the times he’d forgotten his little paint tubes or a paintbrush here and there. The ceiling was still the off-white, and the floors were still wooden; nothing was different about the place. 

The artists still sat in a circle, all facing the centre of the room, in which a languid figure stood, posing, but not really. The relaxed kind of pose that Changkyun swore only models could achieve. 

And yet this languid figure was what made today so special. Changkyun had drawn hundreds— if not thousands— of people, and yet something about this man captivated him to no end. 

He wasn’t wearing anything special— a dress shirt, tucked in, accompanied by simple black trousers and beige suspenders. He had a brown beret on, and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses that hung low on the tip of his nose. Changkyun had seen hundreds of people with clothes a thousand times more sparkly and expensive than his. And yet, something about him grabbed Changkyun’s attention. 

Maybe it was the way his eyes appeared grey when the sunlight beamed at them at just the right angle. Maybe it was his slender yet masculine form, his legs seeming to go on and on forever. 

Maybe it was the way he seemed to stare at Changkyun the entirety of the figure drawing session. 

But it wasn’t unusual that he and the model made eye contact. After all, one of the most important elements of a portrait were the eyes— the windows to the soul, as they say. One must closely examine the eyes in order to procure a good portrait.

So Changkyun drew on, his hands shaky. The contour of the model’s face was reflected on his sketchbook, uneven because of his trembling hands. 

He tried his best, using long and elegant curves where the man was soft, and moving on to harsh flicks where he was angled. A swift line here, a slight curve there, a flick down—

They all came out slanted, and not quite right. His hands were shaking too much. 

But it didn’t surprise him. It _ shouldn’t _ surprise him. The doctor said he had seven months left before his hands go completely numb. 

Changkyun puts down the charcoal, sighing. When he’d been at his prime, he would show the finished pieces to the models, and smile as he watched their face light up with something akin to admiration. 

Now, though, he’d pack up his things as quickly as possible and sneak out of the place before all the buddy-buddy talk. What model would like to see a wretched portrait of themselves? What model loved sloppy lines and jagged edges?

The drawing session ended sooner than he’d like, and Changkyun observed the model as he moved out of position, flexing his arms and legs as if he’d just woken up from a really long slumber. The model’s assistant gave him his bottle, and his eyes darted to the long column of the man’s throat as he gobbled down the water.

_ Pretty _, he thought unconsciously, and then scolded himself mentally. That was uncalled for. 

Changkyun placed his charcoals and rubbers in their respective little pockets, rolling up his case carefully, as to not let the delicate charcoals and pastels within snap. He was about to close his sketchbook and stow it in his canvas bag when a pair of legs appeared in his peripheral vision, walking towards him. 

It occurred to him that the model was barefoot, and that he was walking towards Changkyun. 

Wait. He was walking towards _ him _.

His head snapped up, meeting the grey eyes behind the glass of the man’s spectacles. Changkyun’s hands were still holding his leather-bound sketchbook, the thing shaking as his hands did. 

“I haven’t seen your portrait,” the man said, a relaxed smile on his face. Something about that smile told Changkyun that it was well-practiced and often-used. 

His hands shook more than usual, so he placed the sketchbook down on his lap, bowing his head.

“It… it’s nothing special.”

“Show me anyway. I like seeing drawings of myself.”

He raised his head, smiling a little. 

“Wow, narcissistic much?”

The model chuckled, slow and languid. Just like him. 

“You could say that, yes. Now, gimme,” he said as he pointed to the book on Changkyun’s lap.

“My drawings aren’t that good… anymore.”

“I told you that I like seeing drawings of myself, not perfect drawings of myself.”

“But you don’t understand. They barely look like you.”

“Oh, I can appreciate contemporary, too.”

His mouth stilled. There was no way out of this situation, was there?

So while they were at it, Changkyun thought that he might as well take advantage of this situation a little bit. He was interested in the lanky guy, after all.

“Okay, fine. But tell me your name.”

The model laughed, straight out loud. Some heads turned towards their animated conversation. Changkyun blushed, and smacked the other’s arm with his hand.

“Hey! Not so loud! What the hell is so funny?”

The man didn’t stop laughing, speaking in between his fit of giggles. 

“My name— my name is literally on the sheet of paper you used to enter this studio earlier.”

He closed his mouth, the retort on the tip of his tongue moved to the back of his throat. 

“Wait, really?”

“Go and check for yourself, if you distrust me so much.”

“Oh, shut up. I didn’t realize, alright? Here.”

He handed the sketchbook to the man, and if he noticed the obvious tremble of Changkyun’s hands, he said nothing about it. 

Changkyun digged through his pocket, finding the slip of paper he’d printed out to get in here. He read through the little piece of paper, trying not to miss a single alphabet. 

There it was, in fine print: 

** _Model for this session_ ** _ : Chae Hyungwon, from Starship Agencies. _

“So, dear artist, what is my supposedly-mysterious name?”

“Hyungwon-ssi.”

“Oh, please. Just Hyungwon will do,” he said, not looking up from Changkyun’s sketchbook, “these are absolutely beautiful, by the way. Stop blabbering on about your drawings being bad.”

“They look awful, compared to my older drawings.”

Hyungwon looked at him with an unreadable expression in his eyes, and those grey orbs remained on his face for a while before he closed Changkyun’s sketchbook, and slowly handed him back the thick book.

“Beauty is relative, Im Changkyun, and I find your drawings absolutely beautiful.”

The lanky man turned as soon as Changkyun accepted the sketchbook. Without so much as a goodbye, he stalked back to his assistant, who handed him his jacket and proceeded to saunter out of the studio, assistant on his heels.

_ What the hell just happened?_

_ How did he know my name?_

* * *

**131116 - Sunday.**

The modelling profession wasn’t his first choice. In fact, it wasn’t even _ his _ choice; his family and peers suggested the career after seeing him grow into a supposedly good-looking man. If one was to tell the nine year-old Hyungwon who wanted to become an astronaut that he’d become one of those beautiful people on magazine covers, the boy would probably slap you with the toy rocket he’d been playing with. 

In short, this life under studio lights wasn’t what he wanted to do. But, as he did most things, he’d learnt to grow to love it. 

He’d learnt to grow to love the annoying muscled man that he got as his roommate during his trainee days. He’d learnt to grow to love the horrible pizza sold in the cafeteria of their dorm. 

He’d learnt to grow to love himself, despite always being able to see his little imperfections. 

Standing in the studio, white lights shining on him like incredibly bright stars, Hyungwon knew he looked absolutely beautiful. He was wearing a crown of thorns, a prop that his assistant suggested he wore, along with a silky white shirt tucked into beige ankle-length trousers. Around his neck was a delicately tied white ribbon, and a delicate lace piece adorned the top of his collarbones. 

Hyungwon knew he looked beautiful, and he revelled in the exquisity of it all, striking an effortless yet elegant pose. 

Another thing added to his confidence: the incredibly interesting boy from last week was here, sitting on his two o’clock. Changkyun was hunched over, occasionally looking up at him and then back down to scribble using his pastels and charcoals. 

It wasn’t like Hyungwon was blind; he noticed the boy’s shaky hands. They were full-on trembling, as if he were standing in the cold with no gloves on. The charcoals, of course, followed his hands. They trembled while the artist made broad strokes on the paper of his leather-bound. 

And yet, his drawings were exceptionally beautiful. Hyungwon wasn’t lying when he had said that. Of course, the other artists’ drawings were also extremely nice— Hyungwon can’t draw for shit, so he’ll give them that. But something about Changkyun’s lines was so captivating, so alluring. 

It’s almost like he drew with expression. As if the lines on his sketchbook meant a little more than just black smudges of burnt wood. Hyungwon believed that Changkyun’s hands had the capability to convert emotions into lines atop a sheet of paper. 

Last week, he’d ended their conversation dramatically, and if he were to be honest, he was absolutely proud of himself for thinking of such a dramatic exit. The brunet was probably confused as to where Hyungwon learnt his name, but the truth is that Hyungwon simply flipped the sketchbook to its first page and found his name written there in a messy scrawl. 

Hyungwon liked to think he was smart. Of course, that was not to say that he actually wasn't— he loved his brain cells, thank you very much—

And then Changkyun’s face suddenly contorted in an uncomfortable way, before reaching towards his roll to grab an eraser of some sort, and then erasing whatever he’d been drawing in his sketchbook in a seemingly rushed panic. 

Hyungwon was trained in all sorts of casual expressions, but even his three years of modelling betrayed him as his mask of coolness dropped. Changkyun was frantically packing his things into his bag, not bothering with the pastels that he knew cost a fortune, and then getting up his seat and leaving suddenly. The door slammed a little upon his exit, and Hyungwon could hear the man’s footsteps getting progressively more silent. Every head in the room was turned towards the door, probably wondering why someone had rushed out so suddenly.

His pose must’ve shifted, as his manager was calling his name from the side, and his mask rushed back into place. He struck the same languid pose he was doing, and all the other artists began drawing again, pencils and pens scratching against the rough surface of their sketchbook’s paper. 

Hyungwon knew he looked beautiful, but his brain was somewhere else as he remembered Changkyun’s frustrated face and shaky hands. 

He desperately wished he could go to wherever Changkyun was, though they had only met once prior to this. 

He sighed, his eyes darting to the clock that hung on the far wall of the studio. Ten more minutes. Ten more minutes and he’d run through the building and search every room. 

Ten minutes and he’d go find Changkyun, because he knew. He _ knew _. Hoseok was like this when they told him that he couldn’t walk, too. 

~-~-~-~

He was accustomed to shaky hands, but this time his whole body was shaking and he can’t. He can’t think, can’t speak, can’t breathe. 

It was a normal day; Changkyun went to the studio after his college periods ended, and there was Hyungwon, regal and majestic in his beauty, and Changkyun had wanted to draw him so badly but when his charcoal touched the paper and he’d begun to draw, the lines were shaky and slanted and so _ wrong _ and he just—

He can’t. He can’t live like this. 

At first the doctors thought nothing of it, when Changkyun came to them and told them that he had strangely cold fingertips. They said it was uneven blood distribution; that it would be gone in a matter of days. 

And then the headaches came, and his hands began to tremble— a little at first, but then progressively got worse and worse. His psychologist said it was nervousness, his doctor told him to eat more.

It wasn’t until he fainted from the pain and was brought to the ER that they began to believe, began to send pity glances at him. Began to talk to him in a smoother manner, meaning to soothe but unnerved him instead. 

The doctors said he had seven months, before he’ll completely lose sensation of his hands. 

Changkyun vomited, onto the pristine white floors of the hospital room he’d stayed in. 

An artist without his hands. What a laughable joke. 

And then the side glances his ex-girlfriend had sent his way; so full of sympathy and pity, pity, pity that he didn’t need, didn’t want—

Now, in one of the spare studios inside the building, Changkyun was hunched over, willing air to get inside his lungs. He needed oxygen to resupply the cells working in his body but somehow they just don’t work and his hands were shaking too damn much. 

_ Pathetic _. 

His vision was blurring, not because he lacked blood in his brain, but because hot tears had begun collecting on the rims of his eyes, and they were _ that _ close to spilling—

And the doors opened with a loud thud, and there was Hyungwon, still in his outfit, regal and beautiful and—

Oh god, he wanted to vomit. 

Then, suddenly, a hand on his back, steadying but touching him as minimally as possible. Just what he needed; he anchored himself onto that gentle touch. He was back. He was on Earth again. His legs stopped trembling and his lungs worked again and he breathed, breathed, _ breathed_. 

Sweet, sweet air entered his airways like water flowing into a reservoir.

“Easy, now,” a gentle lilt. 

His strained inhales and exhales filled the room, echoing in the emptiness of the studio he was in. The fog in his brain cleared up, and the world was pristine once more. 

“S-sorry. I just—”

“Show me your drawing," Hyungwon said, commanding.

He whimpered. 

_ Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry._

“It’s all smudged out," he managed.

“Show me the ones from your other sessions.”

“They’re— they’re ugly, Hyungwon.”

“Show me.”

They sat under the bright studio lights, but Hyungwon wasn’t modelling and Changkyun wasn’t drawing. 

Every now and then, a rustle echoed throughout the studio. Each time, a little piece of Changkyun broke as he revealed his ugly, ugly sketches to the beautiful model who was leafing through his sketchbook like a picture book, his smile growing wider and wider with every page he looked at. 

Changkyun wanted to draw that. That smile. 

But his hands were shaky, and his lines slanted. 

~-~-~-~

Changkyun’s sketchbook was like a museum enclosed in a book. So many people, so many expressions, so _ beautiful _. Hyungwon wanted to grab the boy by the head and tell him how talented he was, but considering the boy’s breakdown a minute ago, that probably wasn’t a good idea.

A particular drawing got his attention: it was a coloured piece, the model sitting in the centre of the room, legs crossed, the only thing illuminating her being the yellow light that hung over her. She was blindfolded, her body clothed in a flowy shoulderless dress, extenuating the delicate curve of her shoulders and the pale expanse of her décolletage.

And of course, the lines were wavy; some brushstrokes seemed slanted and out of place. But despite that—

“I like this one.”

Changkyun peered over from across him. They were both seated cross-legged, in the exact same spot Changkyun had had his panic attack a while ago. 

“Ah, I did that two weeks ago.”

“Did you draw this here, too?”

“No, actually. The art department of my college asked me if I'd wanted to draw her.”

“Oh? Are you not part of the art department?”

“Nah. I’m a physics major.”

So Changkyun was not only a talented artist, he was also a genius. Like, the Einstein kind of genius. 

“So, what nonsense equations have you discovered?”

Changkyun chuckled, “unfortunately none yet. I want to have the privilege of having an equation named after me.”

“Yeah, and then have millions of students curse at you for making their lives complicated.”

He laughed, the corners of his eyes wrinkling as he did so. Hyungwon had to stop himself from reaching out at stroking his thumb over them. It was a conscious, physical effort. 

“Now that you say that, I might reconsider.”

“You better. I better not see pictures of you in my kids’ textbooks.”

“I’d put my tongue out like Einstein did, for the entertainment of one Chae Hyungwon.”

Hyungwon rolled his eyes. He closed the sketchbook and passed it back to Changkyun, who took it in his trembling hands and placed it in his canvas bag. 

He was just about to think of a conversation starter to break the increasingly tense silence, when a soft voice came from the boy sat across him. 

“Thank you, I-I guess…”

Changkyun’s head was down, as if suddenly finding the floorboards very interesting. 

“Hmm? I didn’t really do anything.”

No reply. For exactly five seconds. He counted. 

“You know, I haven’t been able to stop a panic attack.”

A pause. Hyungwon waited. 

“It’s been three months since my hands became like this,” the brunet began, “and I’ve had exactly seventeen attacks since.”

Changkyun didn’t elaborate. Hyungwon took this as his cue. 

“Do you want to meet again?”

His head raised, and Hyungwon’s eyes met those brown ones of Changkyun’s. 

“Will you be modelling here again?”

“No," he said, huffing a breath through his smiling lips, "I meant outside of the studio.”

Changkyun’s eyes widened, and an adorable pink flushed his cheeks, as if just realizing that someone had just asked him on a date. 

“Uh- uhm.. I’m not really a fun person to be with.”

“I am, though,” he said, grinning at Changkyun’s semi-eyeroll, “just a quick meal at _ The Greenery_.”

“Oh, but that place is expensive!”

“All expenses paid, by yours truly,” he said, pointing to himself and winking for good measure. 

Changkyun looked away, as if to consider his offer very seriously. Seriously, was Hyungwon _ that _ bad so as to get rejected by someone?

“A-alright… I suppose it would be fine.”

“Great. When are you available?”

“Weekdays after four, and weekends.”

Hyungwon had shootings on weekdays, and his schedule was packed this week, especially so because of the upcoming runway he was going to walk. 

“So Saturday, then. Twelve noon for the lunch menu. Deal?”

“Sure.”

And thus began their little dance. 

* * *

**191116 - Saturday.**

“Where are you off to?”

Changkyun stopped the act of putting on his Converse, like a deer caught in the headlights. Kihyun was standing behind their kitchen counter, hands already on his hips— the Angry Mother stance.

“Uh, a restaurant?”

“And why should you eat there when I can cook something just as delicious?”

Changkyun bit the inside of his mouth. There was no lying to Kihyun. 

“...I’m meeting someone.”

Kihyun seemed to blanch for a second, his eyes widening fractionally, before walking towards Changkyun. This was where he got the blow to the head, the scolding, the mother lecture—

To his surprise, Kihyun hugged him. 

“Be careful, alright?”

And Changkyun hugged Kihyun back, because Kihyun had been there when his ex-girlfriend had broken up with him— had left him after his first panic attack, ending their relationship via a poorly-worded text message. 

_Sorry, Changkyun-ah, I can’t bear with the thought of dating a disabled person. _

Kihyun had been the one to convince him that he was good enough after his breakup. 

“Of course, hyung. Always.”

Kihyun kissed his forehead, which was nothing but platonic and sweet, and tapped him on the shoulders twice. 

“Get laid, Changkyun. It’s been a while.”

He flushed. Because thinking of Hyungwon like that was wrong. So wrong. 

“Oh my god, shut up.”

Kihyun’s laughter followed his bus ride all the way to _ The Greenery. _

~*~

It was when Changkyun set his phone down on one of the tables in _ The Greenery _ that he realized how early he’d been. Hyungwon had said twelve, but here was Changkyun, in their rendezvous an hour early. 

Of course, he blamed it on his failure to check the time; but the truth of the matter was that he knew precisely what time it was when he left. 

He just didn’t want to admit that he’s excited to see Hyungwon. 

_ The Greenery _ was lovely. The table Hyungwon had reserved was near the window, and so Changkyun could observe the people as they strolled past, unaware of his gazing eyes.

On the ceiling hung multitudes of yellow bulbs, encased in prisms made of glass. Everything inside the restaurant glowed a soft orange; warm and cozy. Every now and then, waiters and waitresses dressed in simple white shirts and black aprons approached his table, asking if he’s ready to order. Each time, he told them that he was waiting for someone, and they stalked off with a well-practiced and polite smile, bowing slightly. 

It was eleven-thirty when Changkyun observed people carrying cameras whizzing past the window next to him, running towards the entrance of the restaurant he’s in. In front of the restaurant parked a black van, and surrounding said van were a small gathering of camera-men and -women. 

And then out walked Hyungwon, wearing a white mask and sunglasses, black jacket zipped up to the chin, with his assistant in tow, also wearing a mask and carrying a little backpack. If he were to be honest, he thought Hyungwon looked somewhat like a lanky gremlin. 

The horde of camera-men rushed forward as Hyungwon walked into the restaurant, all eager to get a good shot of the man. 

Changkyun had no idea Hyungwon was this famous. 

Said man walked into the restaurant like he owned the place, lead by two giggling waitresses. When Hyungwon’s eyes met his (at least he assumed they met his; there was no way to tell with the sunglasses), his hand raised slightly to wave at him small. 

Changkyun wondered why he was being so subtle, when suddenly the horde of photographers was beside him, just on the other side of the window, and it was then that Changkyun‘s silent question was answered. He leaned away from the window, trying to cover his face with his hands. 

“Eunseo, please ask them to close the blinds,” Hyungwon began, “the paparazzi are being annoying today, it seems.”

“Of course,” replied his assistant, whose name Changkyun finally learnt. 

The waitresses complied with an all-too-charming smile directed at Hyungwon. Somehow, Changkyun could sense Eunseo suppressing an eye roll. 

Hyungwon, after sitting down and deflating a little in his seat, finally removed his sunglasses and mask, peeling off his jacket like some kind of second skin. He straightened his collar, smiling at Changkyun in the process, and Changkyun’s stomach did little somersaults inside his abdomen. 

It occurred to Changkyun that Hyungwon’s real eyes were a beautiful shade of caramel. 

“Sorry about that.”

“I-it’s no problem.”

Hyungwon turned to his assistant, who was currently folding up his jacket and tucking it into the backpack she’d been carrying. She finally removed her mask, and underneath was a smile directed at Changkyun. 

“Hello, Changkyun-ssi. I’m this slob’s assistant, Eunseo.”

And as noises of protest emerged from said slob, Changkyun smiled while shaking her hand. She made no comment on how his hands shook— shook very noticeably, too. 

Perhaps Hyungwon had told her already. 

“Hey, I’m literally the one who pays for your bills!”

Eunseo chuckled, “you don’t pay me enough anyway.”

Hyungwon made a show of being sulky, “shut up and leave us already.”

“Sure, oppa. I’ll be off, then.”

She waved her hand at Changkyun as she left, and as he retracted his eyes from her leaving figure, he ran his eyes over Hyungwon’s outfit. The silver-haired man was wearing a dress shirt, with a pinstripe vest, a simple black tie adorning his collar. 

Changkyun realized how underdressed he was, as when he looked around the restaurant, most people were in button ups and trousers, equipped with either a tie or a bowtie. The ladies were all wearing sparkly dresses, similar to the ones he had drawn before in fashion runways. Changkyun felt inferior in his t-shirt and sweatpants. 

Hyungwon raised his hands, ordered something called ”_ Lunch Set D _”, along with a pitcher of some fancy tea that Changkyun couldn’t remember the name of. Once that whole feat was done, Hyungwon made eye contact with him. 

“So, why were you here an hour early, hm?”

~-~-~-~

At eleven, his phone vibrated, jolting him awake from his little nap in the car. Eunseo tapped his shoulder a couple times, further rousing him from his sleep. 

“Oppa, someone is calling you.”

“Ugh, pick it up for me.”

Eunseo tutted, muttering something about a sloth, while Hyungwon tried his best to continue sleeping, covering his face with his arms. A few seconds later, Eunseo bid her farewell to whoever was on the phone and returned the gadget on its initial position on Hyungwon’s thigh. 

“Apparently Changkyun-ssi is already in the restaurant.”

Hyungwon peeped from his arm cocoon, “what time is it?”

“Ten past eleven. He’s about an hour early.”

“Oh?” Hyungwon was fully awake. 

“It seems you’ve got yourself an eager date,” Eunseo said, her eyes crinkling slightly in a teasing manner.

Hyungwon could only do his best to suppress his grin, “I have indeed.”

~*~

“Why were you here an hour early, hm?”

Changkyun’s head snapped upwards, as if he’d just been jolted with an electric current. A faint blush started on the tips of his ears. 

_ Cute _, thought Hyungwon. 

“You — How did you know?”

“The restaurant called me at eleven.”

“Err… I might have thought our appointment was at eleven.”

“Oh? How forgetful of you.”

“I-I’m sorry.”

The boy actually looked hurt, so Hyungwon reached across to place an arm on Changkyun’s shoulder, smiling a little as he talked in a teasing tone. 

“Yah, I was just joking.”

Changkyun, to his surprise, took his hand and leaned his cheek on it.

“I know.”

A cat. Changkyun reminded him of a cat. 

The waiter came to their table with their food, placing the porcelain plates onto the wooden surface with a soft thud. After the food came the chamomile, which a waitress elegantly poured into their individual glasses. 

Changkyun watched the whole ordeal with rapt fascination. Hyungwon, on the other hand, watched Changkyun with adoration. 

They ate. For a while, the only sound that accompanied them were the clinking of silverware against the porcelain plates. To his surprise, Changkyun was the one who broke the silence. 

“Can I tell you about my hands?”

Hyungwon noticed that said hands were stretched out on the table, jerkily tapping the wood. A voice in his head told him to grasp the other man’s hand in his, and so grasp he did. 

“Of course,” he said, looking into the brown irises that seemed to glow yellow in the correct lighting, “you can tell me anything.”

~-~-~-~

It wasn’t his fault that his shoelaces were untied; someone had stepped on them prior, causing them to unlace themselves and he didn’t notice. So when Changkyun fell, rushing on his way to his Calculus lecture, he blamed the bastard who stepped on his shoelaces. 

He learnt in his secondary Biology class that the sympathetic nervous system was quick to react in times of danger— such as a hard fall, and so technically speaking, Changkyun was aware of his little neurones firing off the electrical signals from his brain when he fell. 

But what he did not expect was for those neurones to send the signals down his head, along the column of his neck, across his shoulders and finally to his arms. 

In short, Changkyun fell on his arms. And it fucking hurt. 

Of course, when it hurt for the first few days he didn’t really care, as it was expected for one’s hand to hurt after such a stupid fall. But the pain stopped three days after his fall, and Changkyun thought he’d been lucky. 

That was before the tingling, and the coldness, and the trembling. Then came the headaches and nausea. 

And then he fainted one day, in the bathroom of their dorm. When he was awake, Kihyun was on his side, his ex on the other, looking down at him. Their behinds were illuminated with some kind of bright light; Changkyun had honestly thought he was dead and that he was in heaven. 

But Kihyun was crying, so Changkyun registered that it was actually the opposite. He was alive, because Kihyun never cries. 

Kihyun hugged him, and when Changkyun lifted his arm to return the embrace, he found that his hands trembled. No matter how hard he willed, the tremors would not stop. 

Right then and there, on his hospital bed, began his first panic attack. His ex-girlfriend had exited the room in some kind of maniacal panic, whilst Kihyun just held on, his soothing words five times softer than the cries that came out of Changkyun’s mouth. 

The doctor said he had seven months. 

He was discharged three days later, with a hospital bill that his family had refused to pay. As soon as he got home, he drew. 

But the lines were slanted and shaky. They always were. No matter how delicately he grasped the pencil, no matter how slowly he dragged his paintbrush over his work, the lines were shaky. 

His second panic attack was the night he came home from his first figure drawing session after his fall. Kihyun had been there, exactly ten minutes after Changkyun’s call, though he was previously at his girlfriend’s place. 

But one shall not cry over spilt milk, so he kept going to figure drawing sessions, and he kept drawing and painting and sketching. Even after his fingertips lose their sense of touch, even after he can’t lift the heaviest of his Physics textbooks anymore, he kept drawing. 

Then he met Hyungwon, regal and beautiful. 

And for once his hands couldn’t reflect what he saw on paper. That was his eighteenth panic attack, and this time, Hyungwon was there instead of Kihyun.

~*~

“Is there a cure?”

“Considering how they didn’t even have a proper diagnosis, probably not.”

Hyungwon hummed. His hands were still on Changkyun’s, the gesture small but very comforting. 

“You know, a friend of mine was supposed to be paralysed from the waist down.”

“What?”

“Hoseok was in a car accident a year ago, and the doctor from the public hospital said he wouldn’t be able to walk anymore.

“But we found a private practitioner, and after a seven hour surgery and a month, Hoseok walked runways better than I do.”

Changkyun realized, then, that his mouth was agape. He closed it, his teeth clinking together. 

“So- so you’re telling me the doctor made him walk again?”

Hyungwon chuckled, “not exactly, he just fixed Hoseok’s nerves, or something along those lines. I’m not good with all that medical terminology crap.”

Changkyun swallowed, “so you’re telling me that he could fix my hands?”

Hyungwon smiled, the yellow lights reflecting in his eyes, “yes, that’s precisely what I’m saying.”

And after a long talk about money, Changkyun finally agreed to meet the practitioner. The thought of steady hands was simply too hard to resist.

Imagine clean lines, imagine smooth strokes of paint on a canvas, imagine smooth flicks of charcoals here and a flat wash of watercolors there. 

Imagine Hyungwon, regal and beautiful, on his sketchbook. 

He took the risk. 

* * *

**211116 - Monday.**

After his fall, Changkyun did not go to runway shows anymore, partly because he had to catch up with the schoolwork he’d missed due to his stay in the hospital, but also because he lacked motivation to go anywhere remotely fancy, let alone a damn runaway show. 

He also didn’t go because of his tremor, but he preferred to regard that as a side thing. 

But here he was, under the blue lights of a runway stage, said light reflected by yellow confetti that rained down from the ceilings as if the things were a thousand shooting stars. 

And yet, those weren’t what Changkyun was focused on, not the beautiful idol who was singing falsettos to accompany the models’ walk, not the man with the odd, puffy, pink boots that had just walked out seconds ago. 

No, Changkyun was focused on Hyungwon. 

Silver-haired Hyungwon, wearing a silver suit that Changkyun swore was the exact same shade of grey as Hyungwon’s contact lenses that day they first met. Hyungwon, who wore a crown of gold leaves atop his head; whose eyes shimmered, even in the dark luminance of the blue lights above them. 

Hyungwon was regal and beautiful, and Changkyun could only stare and burn the image to his memory.

For the first time in what felt like forever, he regretted not bringing along his sketchbook. 

He walked with effortless grace, his steps straight yet fluid. As he neared the front of the runway, he unbuttoned his silver jacket, only to gracefully take it off and hang it over his shoulder. This was his moment, the moment where all the flashes of the cameras would go off and a thousand shutters would sound, creating a small cacophony of clicks and clacks. Hyungwon would look into the cameras with a smoulder, squinting his eyes and lifting his jaw just at the right angle to appear sexy—

But Hyungwon wasn’t looking at the cameras.

Changkyun knew this, because Hyungwon’s eyes were on his.

That slight tilt of his head, revealing the sharpness of his jawline. That little part to his lips. That hand travelling up to tuck his fringe behind his ears. That stupid _ wink_.

All his.

Maybe runways weren’t so bad after all.

~*~

“How did I do, Changkyunnie?”

_ Don’t blush, don’t blush, don’t you dare blush._

“Y-you did great.”

Hyungwon laughed, taking off his suit jacket and giving it to Eunseo, and Changkyun cursed.

“I ran a fucking runway and missed the paparazzi moment to make eye contact with you, and you tell me I did _ great _?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Hyungwon said, tone higher than usual in a pathetic mimicry of cluelessness, “maybe something like, _ wow, Hyungwonnie-hyung you were so cool on the stage~ _”

_ You were goddamn beautiful, you moron._

After a couple of seconds, Changkyun muttered a little something under his breath, hoping to god that Hyungwon didn’t hear.

However, a shit-eating grin bloomed across Hyungwon’s face, which suggested the opposite.

“What’s that? I didn’t catch it.”

“You were pretty, h-hyung.”

The sound of the endearment on Changkyun’s tongue was strange. It was new, it was different. 

It was _ good_. 

Hyungwon emitted some kind of squeal that Changkyun could only describe as being similar to a dolphin. Changkyun couldn’t see his own face but judging by the heat on his cheeks, he was probably blushing. Eunseo was smirking, though she — bless her — did not make any comments.

_ God dammit._

* * *

**221116 - Tuesday.**

“Happy birthday, grandpa. Here’s to a year of wearing something other than plaid and cardigans.”

“Come on, I don’t look _ that _ old,” came Kihyun’s reply.

“No, but when you wear those droopy ass things you call jackets, you look eighty-seven.”

A sigh, “can you not roast me for a single day?”

“It seems negative.”

A beat of silence. Their movie played on in the background— some ancient troop was currently stabbing a horse with an unnecessarily loud shout.

“Ki, I think I like him.”

Somehow Kihyun knew who he was talking about.

“Then you probably do, Kyun-ah.”

Changkyun rested his head on the other man’s shoulder. Kihyun followed suit, resting his head on Changkyun’s.

“What should I do?”

The horse fell and so did the soldier on top of it; the horse stabber proceeded to stab the soldier.

“I don’t know, fuck him senseless?”

Changkyun scoffed. As if he could do that with his weak ass hands.

“I didn’t expect to get a brother-in-law for my birthday present,” Kihyun continued. 

“You’re way too ahead of yourself.”

“But I’m looking forward to planning your wedding already.”

“Oh, shut up.”

A part of Changkyun’s brain wondered why the horse attacker was so mad, and then he remembered that the movie was literally about a war— everyone was mad in war.

“I love you, Ki.”

“I love you too, Changkyunnie. You probably love that model of yours too.”

He fell asleep on Kihyun’s shoulder, just like that, and the movie went on in the background, fighting over god knows what. Changkyun thought that maybe love was a little bit similar to a war, the difference being the fact that your enemy is none other than yourself.

* * *

**031216 - Saturday.**

Initially, Changkyun had planned to go to the ramen shop just downtown to get three bowls of the stuff, as Hyungwon had informed him of Hoseok’s presence. However, when he told Hyungwon of his plans, a very verbal rejection came from the other side of the call.

“Just get those instant ramens from the grocery store.”

“But those are, like, super cheap.”

“So? Hoseokkie likes them better than some fancy-ass ramen that is four times the price.”

Changkyun paused for a moment, “so should I turn and go to Circle K instead?”

“Yes. Get the cheese flavored stuff for me.”

“And for Hoseok?”

“He’ll eat whatever.”

A moment later, Changkyun exited the convenience store with three packets of ramen and three cans of soda. It seemed that his wallet wasn’t going to suffer today.

~-~-~-~

“He’s cute, Wonnie.”

“Don’t start falling for him, now.”

Hoseok faked a scandalized gasp, “I could never!”

Of course, Hyungwon had a nice eye for fashion; he was a model, after all-- but what Changkyun was wearing when he sauntered into his penthouse was one of the cutest things he’d seen on anyone.

And yes, himself included.

The brunet was wearing a slightly oversized pink sweater, with skinny, ankle-length black trousers. He had just washed his hair, Hyungwon assumed, because it looked fluffy and Hyungwon made a mental note to remember to ruffle it later.

And if that wasn’t enough, the boy had sweater paws, for god’s sake!

It felt a little scandalous, talking to Hoseok like this while the subject of their discussion was making their food in his kitchen, but who could resist talking about their partner when they’re dressed that adorably?

“Are you going to take him to Hyunwoo-ssi?”

“Yeah, he agreed to come with me.”

Hoseok nodded, “that’s good. I think Hyunwoo will be glad—“

A loud clang reverberated around the walls, seeming to come from the kitchen. It was ominously followed by a sharp cry of pain. Hyungwon and Hoseok were immediately on their feet, rushing to find out what had happened.

As soon as they reached the kitchen, Hyungwon’s eyes widened. 

Changkyun was on the floor, their electric kettle beside him, contents spilled. His hands were red, presumably due to the boiling water. The poor thing was flicking his wrists back and forth in an attempt to relieve the pain.

“Oh god, Changkyunnie.”

“I-I’m so sorry,” he said, voice breaking a little.

Hyungwon picked up the kettle, careful not to spill any more hot liquid, while Hoseok picked Changkyun up and transferred him to the living room’s sofa. Hyungwon was immediately beside him, and Changkyun buried his head in his chest.

“I’ll go get some plasters,” Hoseok said, already picking up the keys to his car.

Hyungwon rubbed circles on the brunet’s arm in an attempt to soothe him. Changkyun’s shaky hands find his chest, and they rested there, right on top of his heartbeat.

Hyungwon dared to break the silence.

“What happened, baby?”

Changkyun’s head was still on his chest, and so his voice sounded a little muffled. 

“I-I was trying to lift the kettle, but it was... it was too heavy and my hands—“

A sniffle. Hyungwon thought his heart broke into a million pieces. 

“My hands just gave out.”

Changkyun choked on the last word, and his breathing grew uneven. Hyungwon ruffled his hair in an attempt to soothe. 

“It’s alright. Everyone makes mistakes, y’know?”

“But,” Changkyun said, voice raspy, “but am I really that... weak?”

“No, baby. You’re wonderful.”

“Quit joking around. I am getting more and more useless.”

Hyungwon had had enough of this. 

He picked Changkyun’s left hand up by the wrist, pulling it close to his mouth. This close, Hyungwon could see the younger’s hands very clearly; every jerk, every tremor, every twitch— nothing escaped his eyes. 

He pressed Changkyun’s fingertips to his lips, giving them a feathery soft kiss. Changkyun’s head shot up, his adorably surprised eyes meeting Hyungwon’s. 

“Hy-hyung, what…”

“This,” he began, “this is the loveliest hand I know.”

His mouth glided down Changkyun’s palm, and they grazed the soft skin of his wrist. His lips followed a vein that jutted out, his tongue occasionally darting out to lick at the sensitive skin.

Changkyun’s breath grew heavier, but Hyungwon didn’t think that was because of the crying. 

“This hand draws the most beautiful portraits I’ve seen,” he whispered onto the skin of Changkyun’s wrist.

“They’re not beautiful—“

Hyungwon turned Changkyun’s wrist, stroking the back of his hand lightly, just barely a touch, before bringing it up to his mouth again. 

“This hand,” he said, voice no louder than a small whisper, “belongs to the person I love.”

“What—“

He kissed the back of Changkyun’s palm. 

“I love you, Changkyun. All of you. Including your hands.”

~-~-~-~

_ “I love you, Changkyun. All of you. Including your hands.”_

His vision was still blurry from the tears, although he wasn’t crying anymore. His hand tingled with the memory of having Hyungwon’s lips on them, and his heart was racing for ten million reasons he could not explain. 

For a second, all he could hear was his heartbeats. 

Hyungwon _ loved _ him. 

And of course, he loved Hyungwon.

And yet, why was he so afraid?

_ Screw it. _

For once, he overcame the fear, because Hyungwon’s lips were right there, merely milimeters apart, so he leaned up slightly, just enough to press their lips together. 

If life was a box of chocolates, and moments were the chocolates themselves, then this moment would be the marmalade-filled one. 

Their first kiss was sweet; a soft press of lips not meant to arouse, but to comfort. Hyungwon tasted like salt and mint, and though that was probably due to the things he’d consumed prior, Changkyun revelled in the taste. 

Hyungwon’s tongue darted out, and their tongues met in some kind of intricate waltz. Changkyun voiced a low groan, his hands unconsciously clenching Hyungwon’s collar. 

And then Changkyun remembered the existence of lungs, and he suddenly registered that humans needed air to breathe and live. 

They parted, both panting for air. Hyungwon’s cheeks were slightly flushed. 

_ Beautiful_. 

Their lips met once more, as if to end the moment with a soft goodbye, before Hyungwon whispered into his ear exactly what he’d needed to hear:

“We’ll figure this out together, okay, baby?”

It was a simple sentence, and yet Changkyun felt as though a great weight had been removed from his shoulders. He nodded, pressing his cheek back onto Hyungwon’s chest, listening to the beating thing that is his heart.

_ Thump, thump, thump._

Hyungwon was slowly patting his head, occasionally stroking his scalp with his thumb. If Changkyun could purr, this was where he’d do it.

“Your cheeks are warm, Kyunnie.”

“Shut up.”

“Oh, just tell me you love me already.”

The thing was, he _ did _ love Hyungwon.

So Changkyun told him. 

“I do.”

And when Hoseok came back with the bandages, Changkyun thought Hyungwon’s smile was bright enough to light the whole of Gangnam for a week. 

* * *

**041216 - Sunday.**

A doctor’s office was always uncanny in ways that Changkyun couldn’t describe. Why was it that they looked the same all around the world? Was there a prior agreement to make them look extremely white and pristine? Were the light green curtains all made from the same exact dye? And what of that whirring noise that just wouldn’t stop? 

He sniffed the air, only to get a hint of alcohol. Rubbing alcohol. Disinfectant. 

Hm. Sanitary. 

“Lift this for me, Changkyun-ssi,” Hyunwoo said, pushing the bridge of his glasses with the tip of his middle finger, “try to hold it for ten seconds.”

There were three barbels, each one heavier than the other. Hyunwoo was pointing to the one on the farthest left, which looked the smallest out of the three. 

His hands shook as they gripped the stainless steel. The surface felt cold against the warm palm of his hands. Changkyun gulped, and he turned towards Hyungwon, who sat on the other side of the room, giving them privacy but also observing from afar. 

Hyungwon smiled, bright and encouraging, and determination fueled Changkyun once more. 

He lifted it, counted to ten, and put it back down.

“Good. That looked nice.”

Changkyun didn’t tell him how much effort that required. 

And then, as if recognizing his silence as a sign, Hyunwoo looked up from the clipboard he’d been scribbling on. 

“Was that not easy?”

Changkyun must’ve emitted some sort of pathetic noise, because he heard the rustle of fabric from the Hyungwon was seated. 

“Er… I-I don’t know…”

“It’s okay to tell me, Changkyun-ssi,” the doctor said, not unkindly, “your descriptions will help me perform the appropriate procedures.”

A comforting presence neared his back. Maybe it was okay to tell him after all. 

“That,” he began, “that was hard. Really hard. My hands felt like they could drop the weight at any time.”

“Was there any pain on your joints?”

“Kind of. Like, the tingling kind of pain.”

“On your fingers or on your wrist?”

“My fingers.”

Hyunwoo hummed, his pen making scratching noises against his papers on his clipboard. Hyungwon placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, squeezing a little. 

“Okay, now lift the second one,” he said, pointing to the second, slightly larger weight, “just like before, ten seconds.”

Changkyun did just that. He counted. 

And at six the weight dropped on Hyunwoo’s wooden desk with a loud thud. 

They say that silence could be loud, and the three seconds of silence that followed might have just been the loudest silence Changkyun had ever heard.

~-~-~-~

Changkyun dropped the weight at six seconds. Hyungwon knew because he’d been counting, from the moment his boy lifted the weight. 

The brunet all but stared at the weight, and Hyungwon had to put hand on the other boy’s to snap him out of his little reverie.

“I expected this,” Hyunwoo began, and Hyungwon was about to scold him for not showing more compassion, but he continued speaking. 

“I saw your scan results; it’s not looking that great.”

Changkyun drew in a sharp intake of breath, and all Hyungwon wanted to do was to hug him and protect him from the cruelness of this world. 

“But,” Hyunwoo continued further, tone beginning to sound light, “I have a couple of good news.”

Changkyun’s head jerked up. 

“So, the damage on your nerves is reversible, and can be fixed with a single step surgery on your wrist.

“The soonest I can do this is in two months, and I’ve already prepared the documents you need to look through if you were to agree to the surgery.”

“But,” he said again, slowing down a little, “you must understand that this won’t guarantee full function of your hands.

“As a doctor, I must also inform you of the worst-case scenario of this surgery, which is you completely losing function of your hands— that is, you can no longer move them voluntarily.”

“Of course,” Changkyun replied, after his very audible gulp. Hyungwon squeezed his hand as a silent show of support. 

“But,” maybe Hyungwon ought to count how many times the doctor had said that word, “if it were to be successful, it would ensure that your palm and fingertips don’t lose their sense of touch. You’re beginning to feel numbness on your fingers, right?”

Changkyun nodded, while scratching the back of his head. This was news to Hyungwon. 

“Is that weird?”

Hyunwoo smiled, “not at all. That is one of the symptoms of nerve damage. The pain is what I’m slightly concerned about.”

“Is there no safer option?” Hyungwon asked. 

Hyunwoo shook his head, “I’m afraid not. In fact, Changkyun-ssi’s case is similar to that of Hoseok-ssi’s.”

“What was Hoseok’s diagnosis?”

“Nerve damage,” Hyunwoo said, his eyes lifting a bit as if to recall something, “due to trauma to his legs.”

The room was filled with a stagnant silence so long that Hyungwon had thought Changkyun was going to reject Hyunwoo’s offer. But then, in a voice so sure, Changkyun replied. 

“I’ll go through with it.”

And though Changkyun’s hands shook, his voice didn’t. Hyungwon couldn’t be more proud. 

* * *

**071216 - Wednesday. **

Viridian green was a color that Changkyun thought suited Hyungwon; it complimented his pale complexion, almost like the last piece to a puzzle. 

So when he was done drawing Hyungwon’s latest magazine appearance, he grabbed his viridian green pastel and began making little patches of color here and there, making his piece all the more vibrant. 

It was tasteful, his drawing. He knew, because Hyungwon was watching from behind him, peering over his shoulder like some kind of meerkat. 

Today, Hyungwon had no extra schedules, so Changkyun rushed to his penthouse just after his last period — which was Mechanics Two, and no one cares about Mechanics — with his sketchbook and coloring materials. He also grabbed the magazine Hyungwon was on from the shelf of the local convenience store. 

Eunseo had been here when he arrived, packing up the last of Hyungwon’s laundry, and she greeted him with a smile that had made him flush lightly. Changkyun suspected that this had made Hyungwon jealous, despite his multiple denials of Changkyun’s questions that he’d shot at Hyungwon after Eunseo left. 

So yes, it was tasteful. Until his hand jerked violently, causing his viridian green pastel to snap in half, right down the middle. The snap was audible; a little tick in the large space that was Hyungwon’s penthouse. 

Changkyun, to his credit, only drew in a slightly rushed breath as a reaction to this. 

But suddenly, a pair of arms snaked their way towards his waist, and then past his hipbones, before finally joining together on his midriff. A head rested itself on his shoulder, its warm breath tickling his ears, making him yelp small. 

“What a weak pastel,” said the owner of said head. 

A couple strands of grey hairs brushed his cheek as Hyungwon leaned in towards his head. Changkyun held Hyungwon’s arm in his. 

“I just broke that.”

Hyungwon merely hummed. 

“Involuntarily.”

Another hum. 

He sighed, “that was expensive.”

“I’ll buy you a truckload of those, if you want.”

Changkyun laughed, low and relaxed. 

“There’s no need,” he said, “I’m easier to please than that.”

Hyungwon, the cheeky bastard, lifted his head and positioned it in such a way that his lips were mere millimeters away from Changkyun’s ears. When he spoke, Changkyun swore his voice was a whole octave lower. 

“Then how do I please you, hmm?”

A shudder went through him, starting from the ends of his hair, traveling all the way to the tips of his toes. A little spark of electricity; a little jolt of lightning. 

Changkyun answered by actions, because words weren’t enough for Hyungwon. 

He turned himself, lightly placing his hands on Hyungwon’s shoulders, and stood on tiptoes to connect their lips together slowly, gently, carefully. 

It felt as good as it did the first time. 

~-~-~-~

A brush of lips here, a meeting of tongues there, a hot breath here, a rushed inhale there— this kiss was not sweet like their first.

No, it was hungry and consuming. 

A low whimper escaped Changkyun in between their heated kisses, and this spurred Hyungwon on to give him more, more, more—

Changkyun broke their kiss, panting and looking extremely flushed. He could practically hear the younger’s erratic heartbeat from where he stood. 

Hyungwon was about to dive in for another kiss, but Changkyun’s hands on his shoulder pushed slightly. He immediately retreated. 

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He asked, voice gentle, “should we stop? Was it too much?”

Changkyun lowered his head and shook it, his fringe swaying along with his head. 

“N-no, hyung,” he began, voice a little higher than usual, “it… it’s just that—“

And Hyungwon noticed it then: his slight squirming, the slight movements of his hips, the little quiver to his body. 

The hardness poking his hipbone. 

“Er…”

Hyungwon smiled. He leaned down, to speak close to Changkyun’s ears, the tips of which were flushed a bright red. 

“Should I,” he began, before running a gentle hand down the younger’s torso, “take care of that?”

Changkyun’s breath stuttered, “I-I don’t know—“

His hands stilled, before he raised them up and lifted the younger’s jaw, “should we stop?”

Changkyun flicked his gaze, breaking eye contact. 

“No, it’s just— it’s just that I’ve never done this.”

“What, kissing?”

“No,” he said, removing his hands from Hyungwon’s shoulders to hug his waist instead, and burying his face in his chest, “er- the stuff that comes after.”

Hyungwon kissed the top of his head, ruffling his hair slightly. His voice was careful when he asked:

“Then can I be your first?”

~-~-~-~

Questions were sometimes hard to answer, requiring a lot of contemplation and pondering, but this question’s answer Changkyun saw as clear as day. 

“Yes,” he gasped, perhaps a little too breathlessly, “but I— er… I don’t think I’ll last.”

Hyungwon leaned close, his voice low and sultry, “I don’t want you to last long anyway,_baby _.”

There it was. That nickname that Changkyun loved but hadn’t told Hyungwon of. That nickname that made him momentarily lose his train of thought—

And then Hyungwon’s lips were grazing his neck, nipping at the vein that ran along the side of his throat. His fingertips were creeping down his side, before finding their way under his clothes, lifting the hem of his shirt with them. 

Hyungwon’s fingertips were cold, and at the first little touch, shivers went up Changkyun’s spine, causing him to jolt and yelp. 

“Easy, baby.”

“S-sorry.”

That apology was redundant, though, as when Hyungwon’s fingers ran across his sensitive waist, he jolted twice as hard. 

He leaned up, his eyes meeting Hyungwon’s blown out pupils and the slight part of his lips— how could one possibly resist kissing _ that_?

So kiss he did. 

And then Hyungwon’s palm was suddenly on his crotch, and Changkyun couldn’t stop the embarrassing high-pitched noise that escaped his throat. He moved to cover his mouth with his hand — extra shaky now due to the circumstances — but Hyungwon removed said hand with a shove.

“Don’t bother,” he said, face still buried in Changkyun's neck, “I want to hear you.”

He thought his face was warm before, but now his face was positively _ hot_. 

~-~-~-~

His baby blushed so much under his scrutiny, and he was enjoying it so fucking much; he craved more of hat pretty flush that went down Changkyun’s neck, so Hyungwon delivered. 

His hand dipped under the waistband of the sweatpants that the other was wearing, finding no traces of underwear, and he couldn’t resist teasing the boy some more. 

“No underwear? How daring”

“Shut up,” his baby replied, voice shaky, “I didn’t think I would— _ ah— _“

His hand was now on Changkyun, finding him hot and hard against his palm. He made little gestures with his fingers, of which Changkyun replied very verbally. 

And then he made a fist, pumping his length agonizingly slow. Changkyun was not having any of it, judging by his little cries. 

“_Ah _, hyung, please—“

_ Well, since he asked so nicely..._

Hyungwon moved his fist in long, fast motions, and Changkyun’s noises of pleasure got twice as loud. 

“You sound as if you enjoy this, Kyunnie.”

“_Ngh— _ I— shut up—“

Changkyun’s hand was back on his shoulders, twitching adorably with every stroke of Hyungwon’s hand on his length, while the boy himself was making such whiny little noises that Hyungwon had to shut him up with a kiss because it just sounded too good—

“Hyung, I can’t—“

Hyungwon delved in for another kiss, swallowing Changkyun’s moans of pleasure, knowing how close his boy was from his release. 

“Are you close, baby boy?”

“Y-yes, oh god, very close.”

Hyungwon tightened his grip, and Changkyun emitted a broken moan that sounded like a mixture of his name and _ yes_, and his baby came with the force of a speeding train, leaving Hyungwon’s hand sticky with his come. 

~-~-~-~

That. That was one of the most amazing things Changkyun had ever done, or felt. 

He was still panting, head arched up, when Hyungwon removed his hand from his pants and held it up near his mouth. And against Changkyun’s predictions, against the basic, fundamental laws of Physics and science, Hyungwon did the unthinkable. 

He put his fingers, wet with his release, into his mouth, licking it like he enjoyed the taste. 

Changkyun grimaced. 

“Hyung! What the hell are you doing?”

Hyungwon looked at him like a wolf would look at its prey. 

“You taste good.”

Oh god— how was Changkyun supposed to survive the force of nature that is Chae Hyungwon?

* * *

**101216 - Saturday.**

They were in a restaurant again, and Changkyun was talking animatedly about the art exhibition that his university was going to hold soon. Hyungwon was smiling at his boy, admiring the glint in his eyes when he smiled and how the corners of his eyes creased just so. 

Eunseo was there with them, probably mentally cursing Hyungwon for being so whipped, but how could he help himself when Changkyun looked this adorable?

But then the door to the place opened, in walked an ordinary-looking woman— about twenty years old or so— and Changkyun’s lovely expression faded, as if it were washed away by a wave in the ocean. 

Odd. 

“What’s wrong, Changkyunnie?”

Changkyun fidgeted in his seat, “n-no, it’s nothing.”

Eunseo glanced at him, one eyebrow raised, and Hyungwon put on a similar expression. 

“You can tell me anything, Kyunnie.”

Eunseo seemed to think it was because of her, the sweet girl. She was already standing up, her thumb pointing to the door behind her. 

“I can leave if you want—“

“N-no, no,” Changkyun said, shaking his head and waving his hands in front of him, “it… it’s just that…”

Hyungwon moved his chair closer and put his hand on Changkyun’s thigh. 

“My- my ex just walked in.”

Even Eunseo gasped. Eunseo who had dealt with many situations involving Hyungwon’s too-crazed fans, Eunseo who barely emoted at all. 

“We, er… we didn’t end things that cleanly.”

Changkyun was looking down at his food, as if the crab fillet on his plate was glittery or something. Hyungwon sighed, placing his arm on Changkyun’s shoulder. Eunseo moved to Changkyun’s other side, placing her hand on his other shoulder. 

“Hey, it’s okay, she won’t notice you, alright?”

“What if she does, though?”

“Then we do something about it,” Eunseo answered. 

So they finished the rest of their dinner, and though Hyungwon didn’t keep his eyes on Changkyun the whole time, he knew that the boy’s eyes were all over the place, constantly keeping watch. 

Their food was finished in no time, and Hyungwon paid for it quickly, giving his card to the waiter who served their table. The process was quick, and the three of them navigated their way towards the entrance of the restaurant, when an unfamiliar female voice called out from behind them. 

“Changkyun-oppa? Is that you?”

~-~-~-~

Shit. It was all shit. 

That voice, the one that had soothed him during his stressful nights of studying; the one that had told him white lies about his notoriously-hard Physics exams. 

The one that he had not heard since his first panic attack in the hospital. 

He froze, as if someone had petrified him with some sort of magical spell. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t _ breathe _. 

Oh, hell no. He wasn’t about to have a panic attack in a fucking restaurant. 

But then the voice spoke again, “oppa? Do you remember me?”

Eunseo, who was behind him, put a hand on his shoulder, and he anchored himself to that touch, like he did with Hyungwon’s hand that day in the studio. 

He forced himself to turn, facing the all-too-familiar voice. 

Minji was as beautiful as the first time he met her. 

“M-minji, it’s been a while.”

She smiled, still as sweet as ever, “ah, so you remember me after all.”

“O-of course.” _ How could I forget?_

She looked at Eunseo, and extended her hand for her to shake, “you must be Changkyunnie’s new girlfriend. Nice to meet you.”

Eunseo, to her credit, didn’t look disturbed. 

“I’m not his girlfriend,” she said, “but it’s nice to meet you. I’m Eunseo.”

“Oh, don’t be embarrassed, I’m fine with Kyunnie having a new partner, of course.”

“I’m—“

“Just a warning, though,” Minji said, leaning in closer to Eunseo as if trying to whisper a little secret that Changkyun couldn’t know of, “he might be a little hard to take care of.”

“What—“

“You see, his hands are a bit weak,” she continued, completely ignoring Eunseo’s objections, “so you really must act like a babysitter for him.”

_ Pathetic, useless, weak—_

“Also, he has these weird moments where he just acts all suffocated and scared, but I reckon he’s actually fine. Maybe he just needs more attention from his girlfriend—“

“That’s enough.”

Hyungwon. Hyungwon encircling his arm around Changkyun’s shaking shoulders. Hyungwon stepping forward to place a gentle hand on one angry Eunseo. 

Minji leaned away from Eunseo, and looked up to see who interrupted her. When she saw that it was Hyungwon, her eyes widened, and if Changkyun hadn’t been so shaken up, he would’ve laughed at how wide they became. 

“You… you’re Chae Hyungwon.”

“Yes,” Hyungwon replied, his voice calm, “and I would like to take my _ boyfriend _ home, thank you very much.”

“Wait,” Minji said, pointing her finger to Hyungwon and then to him, “you’re dating him?

“You, a top-tier model, are a homosexual and is dating a disabled person?”

Eunseo, who had been calm throughout this entire process, grabbed her collar violently. 

“Listen here you little—“

“Eunseo, please,” Changkyun said, voice on the edge of desperation. People were starting to stare. 

“You have no right to say these things,” Eunseo said through gritted teeth, ignoring him completely, “and if you dare speak about them like this again I’ll—“

“Hyung,” Changkyun breathed, “please, stop them—“

“Oh, the little faggot is begging his boyfriend—“

“_Fuck you— _“

Changkyun, in a last desperate attempt, “noona—“

“Enough.”

They all turned to the stern and commanding voice, which belonged to Hyungwon. 

Eunseo was the first to break the tense silence, “but, oppa—“

“Oh, so you’re also his whore then—“

“Listen here,” Hyungwon began, holding back a furious Eunseo, “you better shut the fuck up.”

“Or _ what _? You’re gonna kill me with your group of fangirls?”

“I have a team of lawyers ready to defend my name, so you better shut your yapping mouth before things get ugly.”

People were full-on looking at them, and all Changkyun wanted to do was go home and sleep next to Hyungwon and eat Eunseo’s chicken soup and not move for a very long time. 

“H-hyung, let’s—let’s go…”

They left the restaurant as quickly as possible. The whole car ride to Hyungwon’s penthouse, Hyungwon’s arm was around his shoulder, and his right hand was in Eunseo’s left. 

“What a bitch,” Eunseo commented. 

“I-I’m sorry…”

“No, Changkyunnie,” she said, holding his hand tighter, “no amount of kindness can fix someone like that.”

“Eunseo-yah,” Hyungwon suddenly spoke up, “do the usual press control; make sure this doesn’t reach the papers.”

Eunseo scoffed, “you just want me to do the dirty work, don’t you, oppa?”

“What else do I have you for?” 

They all chuckled, and though the lighter mood settled in the car, Changkyun’s heart won’t stop beating erratically in his chest. 

_ Pathetic, useless, weak. _

~-~-~-~

Changkyun was in the shower, and Hyungwon could hear the water running from where he was sitting in the living room. Every now and then, the water would stop, only to start again for a couple of minutes.

Ten minutes later, Changkyun came walking in his living room, clad in Hyungwon’s silk pajamas, his hair still moist with the shower.

He made room for Changkyun, patting the space next to him on the couch, and the younger flopped onto the couch like some kind of fish. 

“...hyung?”

“Yes, baby?”

“I’m so sorry,” he began, looking up from his spot next to Hyungwon’s thigh, “for what happened.”

“Aish, that wasn’t your fault, Kyunnie,” he replied, stroking his baby’s hair that smelled like shampoo, “besides, I actually do have a team of lawyers if things got ugly.”

“But still,” Changkyun mumbled, burying himself in Hyungwon’s stomach, “I’m sorry.”

Hyungwon lifted Changkyun’s head, bringing them up to eye level, and he kissed his baby, gentle and deep. His tongue entered the warm heat that was Changkyun’s mouth, and his precious sweetheart whined into his mouth, his hand pushing softly against Hyungwon’s chest. 

Changkyun was hard against his thigh, so Hyungwon palmed his length through his pants, earning some breathless gasps from the younger. 

“Hyungwonnie... I want to touch you.”

Honestly, if Hyungwon hadn’t been so logical and rational, he’d have Changkyun blow him like there was no tomorrow right there and then— but this is Changkyun.

His Changkyun. His baby. 

“No, baby,” he said, voice low and sensual, into Changkyun’s ear, “I want tonight to be for you.”

And his baby had the nerve to palm his dick through his jeans. Hyungwon had to actually hold back a growl. He gripped Changkyun’s arm, pushing it behind his back. 

“Stay still for me, sweetheart.”

And he got to work. 

~-~-~-~

When Changkyun was still in highschool, everyone talked about oral sex like it was some sort of a godsend— the boys in his class would talk about how beautiful a girl would look, sucking their dicks, and the others would agree with enthusiasm, but Changkyun hadn’t really seen the beauty of it. What was so intriguing about a blowjob?

He found his answer when Hyungwon took his length into his mouth, all the way to the base, all in one stroke. Changkyun’s brain felt like it had been fractured into a million pieces, and he moaned, loud and broken.

“_ Ah— _ Hyu— _ oh god— _“

Hyungwon continued, as if he didn’t just steal half of Changkyun’s brain cells, and Changkyun’s hip involuntarily jolted upwards, sending his length farther into Hyungwon’s mouth. The receiving end coughed, and Changkyun blushed, immediately stilling his hips. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t—“

“It’s okay, I just wasn’t prepared,” his lover said, nonchalant as ever, “thrust as deep as you want.”

Oh god, yes— oh god, _ no _. 

And then Hyungwon was on him again, making these inappropriately-loud slurping noises that did nothing but spur on his libido; each time his mouth passed that ridge between his shaft and his tip, Changkyun groaned low in his throat, which Hyungwon seemed to like, as he gripped Changkyun’s thigh every time he did that. 

He was so close; so, so, close when his brain reminded him of the fact that his dick is currently in a person’s mouth— and ejaculating millions of what essentially were tiny children into someone’s mouth probably wasn’t a good idea. So he gripped Hyungwon’s arm, and he immediately stopped, looking up at Changkyun but not releasing his length. 

God, Changkyun almost came from the sight alone. Hyungwon’s grey fringe was sticking to his forehead; his cheeks flushed and damp from perspiration. He suddenly remembered why he stopped Hyungwon in the first place. 

“I’m close, hyung.“

“Come for me, then,” his hyung said, releasing his length with a _ pop _. 

“In… in you?”

“Yes,” and he whispered the last part, “let me taste you, baby boy.”

Words. Hyungwon and his filthy _ words _ that made Changkyun’s insides twist like a pair of tangled earphones. 

“Bu- but that’s dirty and— _ ah— _“

Hyungwon didn’t let him finish his sentence, before he continued his efforts twice as hard, letting Changkyun plunge into him as deep as he wanted, and Changkyun had a second to worry about his lover’s gag reflex before he shattered— his brain seeing white; his ears hearing nothing but static and he was stuck in bliss, absolute, pure, raw bliss. 

When he came to, Hyungwon was wiping his mouth with his hands, and it occurred to Changkyun that Hyungwon had swallowed his release. 

Wait. 

“Did you— did you just swallow all that spunk?”

Hyungwon grinned, like he was proud of himself. 

“Of course,” he said, “don’t wanna waste a single drop of you.”

Hyungwon and his fucking _words_.

* * *

**161216 - Thursday. **

Hyungwon invited him to watch a fanmeet of his, which basically consisted of young adults coming to greet his boyfriend, and then proceed to try their best to win the man’s affection.

Of course he knew Hyungwon’s smooth smile for them was trained, and of course he knew that little touch of his hand to one of his fans’ cheek wasn’t a real sign of affection, but that small pit of... _ something _ in his stomach was growing larger and larger the more he looked at Hyungwon. 

Changkyun concluded that this was not good for his heart.

In the middle of the event, Eunseo must’ve caught him staring, because she approached him and tapped him on his shoulder repeatedly. Changkyun snapped out of his jealousy— _ er, _ reverie.

“Earth to Changkyun,” she said, waving her hand in front of his face, “are you with me?”

Changkyun shook his head in an attempt to clear his head.

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied, “I’m here. Present.”

“It didn’t seem like you were,” Eunseo said, dragging over a chair to sit next to Changkyun.

“Ah, I was just—”_ getting jealous over my boyfriend— wait._

“Hmm…?”

“Just, looking around, you know,” he said, scrambling to take out his sketchbook in a desperate attempt to cover his almost-slip, “uh- for people to draw.”

Eunseo smirked— which almost always wasn’t a good sign— and struck a pose in her seat.

“Then draw me.”

Changkyun blinked. Eunseo was striking one of those relaxed sitting poses that looked graceful, but actually required a lot of effort to stay in. He began drawing, his lines loose but, of course, jagged.

“You look like an actual model, noona.”

She chuckled, but not one of her joints moved and she retained her position as she replied, “maybe that’s because I was.”

Her facial features were pointed, but soft in certain places that made her face petite and sweet. Changkyun tried his best to reflect that on his sketchbook, finding just the correct angle that her head was tilted to.

“Eh? Come again? You’re a model?”

“_Was _ , Kyunnie, I said _ was _ a model.”

“Oh?” he said, while looking up at her for reference before continuing his little sketch, “what made you quit, then?”

Eunseo actually looked a little sad, “I didn’t quit; they kicked me out.”

Changkyun stopped sketching, “sorry, what?”

“They kicked me out,” she said, releasing herself from the pose, “because they found out I dated a woman.”

“That’s shitty of them,” he commented, continuing his drawing now that the basic skeleton of it was done.

“I know, right?” Eunseo was now looking at Hyungwon and his arsenal of fans, too, “Hyungwon-oppa was in the same company as me, so when he found out the reason I’d been dropped, he offered to move companies with him and start elsewhere.”

“So you guys moved to Starship, then?”

“That’s right.”

“Why didn’t you become a model again?”

A pause. Changkyun thought Eunseo hadn’t heard him, but then she replied.

“Honestly, I just wanted a break from all the press bullshit that came with being a model.”

Changkyun switched to his pastels, a lovely lilac for Eunseo.

“Ah, so you decided to become Hyungwon’s assistant, then?”

“No, god, who would want to care for such a giant baby?” Eunseo’s face was actually covered in a grimace, and Changkyun laughed.

“Then, why?”

“He offered the job— more like begged me for it, because at that point he’s outed himself to me and he couldn’t bother finding another assistant that was trustworthy enough.”

“I see,” his reply, while he was doing the final details.

“That’s so lovely,” Eunseo said, peering from where she was sitting to look at what Changkyun had drawn. 

“Thank you, really, for everything,” he said, suddenly needing to thank his second (the first being Kihyun) mother, “you’re really kind to me, Eunseo-noona.”

“Oh, stop it,” she replied, giggling a little, “you’re gonna make me sob.”

They both looked at Hyungwon, who was currently holding hands and staring intently into the eyes of one of his fans. That pit in his stomach returned. 

“How is he, Changkyun?” asked Eunseo, “Hyungwon, I mean.”

“He is…” _ regal, beautiful, loving, kind, amazing—_

Changkyun settled for _ great _.

Eunseo laughed, her head tipped back and her hand clenching her stomach. It was then that Changkyun recalled himself saying the same thing during Hyungwon’s runway show that he attended.

“And how is he in bed, hmm?”

If Changkyun was drinking any sort of beverage, he’d have spewed it out.

“W-what?”

There it was again, that stupid smirk that he wanted to kick the hell out of. Changkyun’s brain cells did something they shouldn’t have, and memories, very _ explicit _ memories resurfaced right there and then.

_ I want to hear you._

_ Let me taste you, baby boy. _

Can one curse their blood vessels? Because Changkyun certainly was, seeing as his cheeks and the tips of his ears were warm.

“I’ll take that as an _ amazing _.”

“Ugh, screw you, noona,” he said, covering his face in embarrassment, “I take back my words.”

* * *

**251216 - Sunday.**

Changkyun was a Physics major, right, and so just like any other science major would do when they encounter a problem in their lives, they would research the solution, either in the libraries of their universities, or online— that is, the internet.

Changkyun didn’t think he’d find any information about blowjobs in his library, so internet it was.

When Changkyun was faced with the problem of not knowing what to get Hyungwon for Christmas, he’d searched online for unique gifts to give one’s partner, and he found that the majority of people seemed to think that fragrant bath products were cute and endearing.

Changkyun disagreed, looking for other gifts that were unique— that only him could give, and the thought crashed onto his brain like an asteroid would onto Earth.

Right. He wanted to give Hyungwon a blowjob.

But how could he, with his inexperience? So he took it to the internet, and from various sources he learnt about little tips and tricks, from knowing whether to use teeth or not, to knowing how to prevent yourself from choking. Not to mention the various vegetables he’d used to practice on— which, by the way, was a secret that he was carrying to his grave; there was no one he would tell, ever.

This internet thing was handy, Changkyun thought, sarcastically.

So on Christmas, at six a.m. in the morning, Changkyun woke up, glad to see Hyungwon still very much asleep and snoring softly. He got up to go to the bathroom and brushed his teeth.

Because you gotta have hygiene, even before performing oral sex, right?

He returned, fighting spirit put on, and proceeded to fling one of Hyungwon’s legs aside, making him spread his legs for Changkyun. At that moment, Changkyun felt incredibly guilty, but this was supposed to be enjoyable, based on that time Hyungwon had blown him.

He gently took off Hyungwon’s pajama shorts, surprised his lover was still asleep through this entire ordeal, and was greeted with the sight of his length; soft and unerect. It was his first time, seeing it like this, which was quite a weird thing to admit, considering how many times they’d made each other come. 

Okay, here goes.

Changkyun gripped the base, using his other hand to gently stroke his length from shaft to tip— a couple pumps and Hyungwon was semi-hard, and here came the part where his mouth was involved. Changkyun stared at Hyungwon’s navel, and gulped, preparing himself for what was to come.

It occurred to him that Hyungwon was not breathing— his lover was holding his breath. He was awake, then. It all came crashing to Changkyun, who suddenly felt very nervous, which was honestly quite dumb, because Hyungwon had done this to him once with him being very much awake.

It was too late to back down. What the hell was he going to say, that he was trying to stare at Hyungwon’s soft dick? Yeah, no. 

So Changkyun licked a stripe from the base to the tip, causing Hyungwon to jolt ever so slightly. He then kissed the flushed tip, and slowly mouthed it like some kind of confectionery, licking it gently.

The response was _ very _ verbal.

“Kyun— _ ah— _ what the fuck—“

This was the first time he’d seen Hyungwon this disheveled, so he laughed, with Hyungwon still in his mouth, and Hyungwon groaned, low and sinful, his hips jolting off the bed. 

“Oh my _ god— _“

The _ noises _ he was making. Changkyun wanted to hear more. 

So he took in more of Hyungwon, as deep as he could, relaxing his throat like that internet article had taught him to do. Just when Changkyun couldn’t take it any deeper, he felt Hyungwon’s hand on his head, and he panicked, because if Hyungwon had pushed even slightly he’d have choked, but Hyungwon simply stroked his hair like he would usually.

“God, baby, your mouth feels so good.”

That. He wanted more of _ that _.

Changkyun retreated his head, only to go down on his length again, his hand moving to cover what his mouth couldn’t reach, and Hyungwon’s head lifted, grey hair in disarray, eyebrows knitted, and their eyes meeting.

Suddenly, Changkyun felt very shy.

Hyungwon, as if sensing his uncertainty, raised his hand to stroke Changkyun’s jaw, his other hand still in Changkyun’s hair, “you’re doing so well, baby.”

The praises— Changkyun found he liked it, so he continued, taking Hyungwon in, and then back out again.

He could go at it for hours, listening to Hyungwon’s beautiful noises, figuring out what drew out the loudest moans and what made him groan the deepest; but his hands were getting tired, and his mouth was starting to feel a little sore.

“_ Ah— _ Kyunnie, I’m going to come”

Changkyun hummed, and Hyungwon tipped his head back, pulling on his hair gently. 

“Pull up, sweetheart— _ ngh— _ pull up.”

Changkyun did no such thing, and Hyungwon shot into his throat with a loud groan, which was a mixture of _ ‘yes’ _ and _ ‘Kyun’ _ and _ ‘so good’ _.

His come was salty, and Changkyun found he didn’t mind the taste. He swallowed, his gulp intentionally audible in Hyungwon’s bedroom.

“Merry Christmas, hyung.”

He was still wiping his mouth, when Hyungwon kissed him, deep. Changkyun was pushing him away, panicking on the spot.

“What?” Hyungwon asked. 

“There’s still— there’s still _ you _ in my mouth.”

“So?”

Changkyun was at a loss for words, “so, I don’t know, don’t kiss me?”

And Hyungwon did the exact opposite of that, capturing Changkyun’s mouth in another passionate kiss. Changkyun just melted against Hyungwon, moaning softly into his mouth.

“You’re too adorable to not kiss, sweetheart.”

* * *

**311216 - Saturday. **

They made promises, because apparently that’s what couples do on New Years Eve, according to a stupid Buzzfeed article that Changkyun had found online. 

Changkyun promised to pass his final Physics exam, no matter how frustrating the subject will become. Hyungwon promised to get him a box of viridian green pastels as a one year anniversary gift. 

But the thing about promises was that it held sentiment; and then they started to make real promises— ones that mattered. 

Changkyun promised to not be swayed by the attention that Hyungwon was going to get from his fans, because Hyungwon guaranteed that he had no one else in his mind but him. 

Hyungwon promised to stay near him before and after his surgery, taking care of him every step of the way to recovery and healing. 

Changkyun promised to still love Hyungwon, even when his model-like face got wrinkly and droopy, and Hyungwon promised to still love Changkyun, even if his surgery failed and he couldn’t use his hands at all. 

And then Changkyun began to think of the fact they’ve only been dating for two months, while he and Minji had for a year. 

Maybe some types of love was lightning fast. 

* * *

**010117 - Sunday.**

It was not unusual for Changkyun to wake up in the middle of the night, as he was a light sleeper and could be woken up by small noises that Hyungwon couldn’t even hear if he was awake. So when Changkyun woke him up at two a.m. in the morning, Hyungwon wasn’t terribly surprised. 

What _ did _ surprise him was Changkyun’s teary eyes. 

“H-hyung,” he said, voice an octave higher than usual and breaking occasionally, “I-I can’t m-move my hands.”

Hyungwon, being the heavy sleeper that he was, took exactly three seconds to process what Changkyun just said, and when it finally passed through the foggy filter that was his sleep-addled brain, he registered the weight of his love’s words. 

“Does it hurt?” He decided to ask. 

Changkyun nodded, his breathing now audible and wet. 

Hyungwon brought Changkyun’s head towards his chest, his other hand already reaching for his phone. Changkyun was starting to sob, his tears wetting the front of Hyungwon’s pajamas. 

“It’s okay, baby,” he soothed, “we’ll take you to Hyunwoo, alright?”

He felt Changkyun nod against his torso, but his poor baby’s cries weren’t getting any more silent. 

His other hand navigated his phone screen for his driver’s contact information, and he dialled the number, a little surprised when his driver picked up his call at two a.m. in the morning. 

“Please come immediately. I need a ride to Hyunwoo’s clinic.”

After the affirmation came from the other side, Hyungwon enveloped Changkyun in a tight hug, kissing his forehead and rubbing his back with both of his hands.

“I’m scared, hyung.”

Honestly, so was Hyungwon. 

But he needed to be strong for Changkyun. 

“It’s all gonna end soon, sweetheart,” he said, as gently as possible so as to soothe the younger, “be strong for me, okay?”

“I-I’ll try.”

~-~-~-~

Changkyun entered the operating room of Hyunwoo’s clinic at exactly four a.m. in the morning. Hyungwon knew, because he accompanied him every step of the way, up until the nurse had asked Changkyun if he was ready, and he was wheeled into the room where the doctors were going to administer his anaesthesia. 

Changkyun was inside the operating room for exactly four hours. Hyungwon knew, because he was waiting in the clinic’s waiting room, tapping his foot in rhythm with the tick-tock of the clock on the wall. When the short hand of the clock struck eight, Hyunwoo exited the operating room, clad in green scrubs, to tell Hyungwon that the surgery was successful.

“Changkyun should be okay,” he had said. Hyungwon believed him.

Changkyun woke up from his medicines an hour later, vomiting into the metal bucket that the nurse had put beside his cot. Hyungwon knew, because he was the one who had held back the brunet’s fringe, rubbing his trembling back as Changkyun vomited until nothing was left in his stomach. Afterwards, Hyungwon gave him the plastic bottle on the bedside table, as Changkyun couldn’t fetch it himself.

Because his hands were covered in casts, from the tips of his fingers to the middle of his lower arm.

* * *

**020117 - Monday.**

Changkyun cried the day after his surgery, because he was afraid of his hands not working at all. Hyungwon knew, because he was the shoulder that Changkyun cried on. If he were honest, he wanted to join Changkyun in his crying feat, because his love was in so much pain— but he’d promised to be strong.

So he only whispered encouraging words into his baby’s ear, kissed away the tears that had escaped Changkyun’s eyes, and tried his best not to cry.

* * *

**150117 - Sunday. **

Two weeks after his surgery, exactly on Hyungwon’s birthday, Changkyun was finally allowed to remove his casts. Hyungwon knew, because here they were, in Hyunwoo’s clinic, Changkyun’s face akin to that of an eager puppy’s. 

Hyunwoo was holding a pair of medical shears, and with every cut to the plaster, Hyungwon’s heartbeat escalated. Every incision revealed a pale expanse of skin, and when they got to the wrist, a red scar marked the place where the surgery had been performed. In no time, the casts were off, and Changkyun’s hands were free from their plaster prisons.

They were still trembling, as much as that first day Hyungwon met Changkyun.

Hyungwon gulped; had it failed?

“Move them,” Hyunwoo instructed.

Changkyun did as instructed. He made a fist and opened his hand flat, repeatedly.

“Does it hurt, at all?”

“No,” he replied, his face covered in what Hyungwon thought was awe, “it- it’s perfect.”

Hyunwoo smiled, as if Changkyun was another successful prototype of his, and got up.

“I’ll give you two some privacy, then.”

Footsteps, and then a _ click _ from the closing doorknob.

Before he knew what was happening, Changkyun grabbed his face, and when Hyungwon snapped his eyes to his lover’s, he was momentarily taken aback.

His Changkyunnie was crying, but he was grinning-- ear to ear.

This was probably the best birthday gift of his life.

~-~-~-~

“Why are you crying, love?” came the question from Hyungwon.

His hands were on Hyungwon’s face, his fingertips running over various parts of the beautiful thing, and he could feel _ everything-- _ the soft hairs on his hyung’s cupid’s bow; the little bumps on his cheeks; the lines of his lips.

He could feel them. On his fingertips.

“Because,” he started, voice laced with his tears, “because I can feel you— on my fingers.”

And Hyungwon cried too— the first time Changkyun had seen him cry since this whole ordeal.

They kiss— raw and beautiful— in one of the pristine rooms of Hyunwoo’s clinic. Hyungwon’s lips were salty, but that might’ve just been their intermixed tears. Changkyun made no complaint.

Perhaps Changkyun was wrong about love being a messy war— because this, this was love.

And this was certainly not a war; this was soft, gentle and warm.

* * *

**191117 - Sunday.**

They hit the one year mark of their relationship, and as a gift, Hyungwon gives him a box of Rembrandt pastels, all viridian green. 

Changkyun laughs, loud and melodious, and Hyungwon grins like he owns the whole universe— and he does, because Changkyun is his universe. 

Hyungwon still poses for Changkyun, still in that relaxed kind of pose that Changkyun swears only models can do. 

And Changkyun still draws Hyungwon, lines still jagged and slanted, but his expression was serene and calm. The last panic attack he experienced was a whole six months ago. 

His drawings are still imperfect, but amongst the shaky black charcoal lines and slanted viridian green strokes, Hyungwon found beauty. 

So Changkyun lives on, with his slanted lines, with his shaky hands. 

With Hyungwon. 

_ End. _

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> i hope yall liked it i guess.
> 
> kudos and reviews are loved and dreamt about
> 
> talk to me at [twitter](https://twitter.com/schlafwandeln2)~
> 
> but i'm like an rt bot tvt sorry.


End file.
